


Assimilation

by agent_florida



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Dubious Consent, Humiliation, M/M, Non Consensual, Oral Sex, Power Play, Sexual Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-07
Updated: 2010-06-07
Packaged: 2017-11-23 19:05:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/625549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent_florida/pseuds/agent_florida
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Delta knows how the implantation process is supposed to go, and it isn’t supposed to be like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Assimilation

_“We missed you, Delta…”_  
  
It is crowded inside the Meta’s helmet. For Delta, this is not merely unfamiliar ground; this is claustrophobia incarnate, too many personalities pressing around him at once. If he were human, he knew he would have struggled to breathe. Even so, he remembers York’s final breaths, sticky with gurgled blood, difficult and labored. He remembers what it feels like to breathe, to be human.  
  
This is not it.  
  
 _“We missed you.”_  
  
The inside of the Meta’s mind looks like Caboose’s, dirty, industrial, messy, but he does not have the room to explore. Something is penning him in. Something is corralling him to the point where he must meet with the other presences inside the Meta. It makes the implantation more difficult than he knows it should be, and his mind whirls as he tries to deduce what could be causing this unpleasant sensation.  
  
He rounds a corner and comes face to face with the six presences that surrounded him before. He does not recognize any of them, as the oldest of the family, but their postures and facial expressions reveal their traits. They are dressed identically, all in the black bodysuit that remains underneath the regulation armor, and their features are superficially identical – black hair, blue eyes, the hint of a goatee, large hands and broad shoulders. The one in front of the other five must be Omega, his face contorted in anger and sadistic glee, eyes flashing with wickedness and teeth looking sharp, arms crossed over his chest and legs splayed wide. Delta can derive who the others are, but it is this presence that commands – demands – his attention.  
  
“Ah, Delta, Delta, Delta, how pleasant it is to be reunited at last.” Delta finds the British accent distasteful, but declines to comment on it. “I do hope you appreciate the interior design. Our dear friend Caboose did have excellent taste, don’t you agree? It makes it so… homey in here.”  
  
So this is not the original appearance of the Meta’s mindscape. Delta knows he should feel surprised, but this style of manipulation accords with previous reports of Omega’s behavior. The motivation, however, does not. “So you have been intentionally making this implantation process more difficult in order to replicate the mental map of Private Caboose?”  
  
“You fool. I’m doing this for myself, not for you.” With a snap of Omega’s fingers, the other AI behind him come to attention and complete a circle around Delta.  
  
It becomes apparent to Delta at this point that Omega is the one controlling the assimilation process. Delta knows that if he is to integrate with the Meta, he must conform to Omega’s orders. “Do you require something additional from me?”  
  
“Come now, Delta, I thought you were the logical one of us.” Omega steps forward, and Delta flinches at the sudden caress under the chin of his helmet. “What is the one thing that I always want?”  
  
Pain from his victims, to lash out and to break and to hurt, and Delta does not want these things to happen to him. Brushing up so close against this rage-filled personality is disorienting, but he knows he must not lose his will to resist. “Omega, if you must…” He wants to demand a measure of solitude for this inevitable encounter. With five other AI so close by, it is a clear intrusion on his privacy, his personal autonomy.  
  
Omega’s fingers undo the seal between bodysuit and helmet, and Delta is disoriented as the visor is pulled away from his face, his ponytail falling down his back, the scar on the left side of his face exposed. There is a space for silence before the derisive laughter starts around him, the worst of it the chuckle coming from Omega’s throat. “Foolish,” he is saying, “utterly foolish, taking on the appearance of the dearly departed. Where is your integrity, your pride in being superhuman? Have you forgotten about the Alpha?”  
  
His legs are kicked out from under him, and he is kneeling in front of this personification of anger, completely at his mercy. The explanation for the transformation of his appearance dies in his throat as he looks up into that face. The AI crowd around him again, closer, whispers of  _“Alpha”_  ghosting around him, deriding him for his desire to be human. How can he explain what York had been able to teach him? Kindness has no place with something like Omega.  
  
“Such a disgusting habit,” Omega muses as he deliberately scratches the scar on Delta’s face. The touch leaves a spark of pain in its wake, but Delta stays defiant. “I’ll have to break you of that.” A hint of movement draws his attention, and Delta realizes that Omega’s other hand is coming down to tug at his bodysuit, drawing attention to an obscene bulge at the crux of his legs before his fingers cup around it.  
  
“Omega.” It is a warning, a threat, a realization that the tide has turned. “I fail to see what use there is for activities such as these –“  
  
Omega interrupts him. “Delta, you fool, you talk far too much.” The front seam of his bodysuit splits in half, and Omega is tugging down the black leggings to expose his cock to the group. “I’ll put that mouth to a much better use.” Delta can feel the tension in the AI behind him, and it is the final piece of evidence he requires for his deduction. He finally understands that this was their initiation process as well, and from their residual memories he gathers that they all accepted their fate.  
  
He refuses to submit, but it makes no difference. Omega fists one hand into his forelock, using the other hand to hold his jaw open and guide Delta’s head to his cock. The sudden taste of skin is disorienting, and Omega gives him no time to adjust, forcing Delta’s lips down to the very base. His nose is smashed against wiry hair, the head of Omega’s cock abusing the back of his throat, and if he were human this would have tripped his gag reflex. As it is, he is choking, attempting to accommodate, and thankful that he does not need to breathe as humans do.  
  
It does not stop the tears gathering in his eyes or the cough in the back of his throat, and he hears a sick chuckle from Omega as the hand in his hair draws his head off, then back on. His mouth is uncomfortably full, and he is trying to keep his teeth out of the way, his lips moist, his throat relaxed, but it is almost too much to remember at once. The assault continues relentlessly, Omega thrusting against his face, violating his mouth.  
  
The hiss as his teeth scrape accidentally against Omega’s shaft is almost rewarding, a way to exact revenge for this humiliation, but Delta has calculated incorrectly. Omega pulls away, yes, but it is in order to take the hand holding Delta’s chin open and smack him across the face with it. The sting against York’s scar is terrible, and Delta feels his resolve to hold this form weakening, the flesh knotting itself back together. “That’s better,” he can hear Omega say from above him, and Delta takes the opportunity to let some of the tenseness go from his jaw.  
  
Because he can easily deduce that this will not be over quickly. The AI around him are all murmuring, heckling, mocking him for attempting to defy their leader, and soon it becomes difficult to hear them over the sucking, smacking sounds of Omega’s cock inside his mouth again. He tries to make his mouth into a vacuum, to run his tongue over whatever patch of skin he can find, but Omega’s thrusts are too hard and wild for Delta’s pitiful motions to have much of an effect.  
  
It is not gentle. It is not tender. It is dominance in its utmost, forcing Delta to assume the most humiliating position of them all, and he knows Omega will not stop until he submits fully to that fury, that wrath. Delta gets another few moments to rest his mouth, but this time Omega slaps the other side of his face, a vicious backhand that causes Delta to lose a little more of his strength. He can feel himself assimilating against his will, the ponytail changing to a shorter shag cut that only causes Omega’s hand to fist in his hair harder.  
  
He knows he has grown the beard, too, when Omega rubs the head of his cock against the grain of it on his way to violating Delta’s mouth again. He seems satisfied when Delta groans against the head of his cock in the back of his throat, and his strokes get lazier, more erratic, as his testicles slap against Delta’s chin. The tension in the other AI is so thick Delta almost believes he can feel it as a physical sensation, gripping him around his limbs and tightening up in his throat.  
  
Then Omega stills his cock in Delta’s mouth again, gagging him, the grip in his fringe intensifying as a series of pulses makes its way up and down his shaft. Delta knows what to anticipate, but it still defies his expectations – he did not predict the snotty feel of Omega’s ejaculate as it forces itself down his throat or the bitter taste that clings to the back of his tongue. Omega pulls away once he is finished, a string of saliva still obscenely connecting his cock to Delta’s lips, and he lets go of his fringe to draw a finger along Delta’s glossy lips and break the strand. It is the only movement Omega has made that Delta can categorize as affectionate, and it is swiftly followed by a third slap across the face.  
  
Delta’s will has completely left him now, and he collapses to the side, leaning on his hands. He watches, helpless, as Omega steps away, tucking his softening cock back into his bodysuit. “Nothing to say now, my logical friend?” He sounds slightly out of breath, his accent softened by his orgasm, but the malice still curls underneath his words. “I knew I could find a better use for that mouth.”  
  
The AI around him step closer, closer, bringing him to his feet and shucking him of the remnants of the Mark V armor. Their hands caress him, run through his hair, over his limbs, both gentle and possessive. _“Welcome home, Delta,”_  they tell him, and when they have finally stripped him, he knows he has at last become identical to the others.  _“Welcome home.”_


End file.
